


Life Itself

by giraffles



Series: FMA Rarepair Week 2016 [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, FMA Rarepair Week, M/M, Minor Violence, trans girl!Fletcher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffles/pseuds/giraffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Gotta get back, gotta get free</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Come back down to my knees</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Be like them, lean back and breathe</i>
</p>
<p>When they open the blinds that morning, their front porch looks like a brochure for a botanical garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Itself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fletcherstringham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fletcherstringham/gifts).



> So this is for Abbie who is magical and wonderful and requested this ship, and features trans girl Fletcher briefly. c: This also ended up being a little Tiger & Bunny inspired because I just can’t stop myself.

When they open the blinds that morning, their front porch looks like a brochure for a botanical garden.

      “I fucking hate that showoff.”

      “Well, I think he’s cute.”

Ed chokes on air, looking betrayed and horrified. Al goes to find a vase for the flowers, unnaturally blue and stunning, each leaf a delicate lacework in his hands. He’s sure nothing like them exists in nature, but that’s half the fun. Why not use your powers to create something new and fantastical?

Too many people only had the means to destroy. Al will take bright blooms and encroaching vines any day of the week.

      “ _Traitor_.”Ed hisses, so he makes sure he gets a face full of water for his trouble. The strangled shriek is worth it.

      “Don’t you remember what he— _they_ — did?” his brother continues even with a towel shoved in his face. “You can’t be serious.”

Al shrugs. Of course he remembers; the day they finally decided to get registered, to become more than glorified vigilantes punching muggers when they happened to spot them. Not that their situation was unusual amongst Gifted— who could resist trying out super human abilities, and doing some good to boot? Or some bad, in some other’s cases. Getting registered with the Department of Gifted Endeavors was the next logical step. It would certainly keep them both out of trouble with the law.

Except, when they’d submitted their names, they were _already_ in the system. Wrong faces, wrong powers, wrong people. It had been a nightmare straightening it all out. Especially when the culprits had been tracked down and Ed insisted on some sort of medieval duel for his honor that resulted in a black eye, two cracked ribs, and some serious whiplash. And that was with him _winning_. Because he always wanted to solve his disputes with fists and arcs of lightning. Al hadn’t wanted to get in the middle, not until there was real blood being spilled, wild burns spreading across his opponent who also wouldn’t admit defeat. If it hadn’t been for Fletcher, they might have been both been bringing home body bags instead of brothers.

      “Maybe we should have gotten things official when I _said_ to, instead of waiting. Then that wouldn’t have happened.”

      “Traitor.” Ed repeats, but gives up with a huff, wandering off to stew and probably plot revenge or something. Not that he’ll go through with it. Well, Al won’t let him, at least.

* * *

 

Of course he was mad when it happened. They both where. But finding out the reason behind the deception made it a little easier to forgive. Not excuse fully, but he understood the motive. He could see why Russell didn’t want to be connected with his mass murderer of a father. Because he got it too.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world to be constantly compared to Hoenheim. It got grating after a while, with everyone assuming that they had the same powers, could create the same dazzling light displays and stop criminals and onlookers alike in their tracks. He supposes lightning is sort of like glow their father had, though Ed will insist differently. Al has domain over water instead, something he assumes comes from his mother’s side. She hadn’t been Gifted but it wouldn’t have surprised any of them. Water and it’s delicate equilibrium would have suited her.

Hoenheim disappeared years back. Their mother died, they caused lots of property damage as troubled teens, so on and so forth. Some people wanted them to live up to his name. They adamantly refused to.

(Ed had always said he wished he had fire in his veins instead of electricity, so he could burn out all the memories and expectations. It’s a good thing he doesn’t otherwise the world would have been choked with his rage and ash and smoke. No one would have been safe.)

So he gets it. He’s put the incident behind him, even if his brother hasn’t.

Besides, he really _is_ cute. Ed is probably just jealous.

* * *

 

Someone at the Department of Gifted Endeavors had a sick sense of humor. Or was just oblivious. Somehow, the Elrics and the Tringhams, newly off probation, had been assigned to work together. Ed would not stop bitching until they _all_ threatened to fling him off the nearest high-rise and see if he had secret flying abilities too. Al admits only to himself that he’s nervous— and who wouldn’t be, with the tension literally crackling in the air around them (“For fuck’s sake Ed, you’re going to short out the whole block!”) and that awkward first date feeling. Or maybe that was just him.

      “Just stay out of my way!”

Russell’s hands go up in a mock show of submission. “I’ll try not to trip over you.”

Al holds him back by the nape of his sweatshirt. Fletcher looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. And then someone is robbing a bank down the street, so they’re forced into action alongside each other.

Miraculously, they’re not the ones who cause the most damage. They go toe-to-toe with other Gifted, who cause the earth to shake and winds to bite at them. Not a bad combo for a robbery, if he must concede the point. But Ed’s electricity doesn’t care that the atmosphere is being whipped up like a storm— He _is_ the storm, fury and raw power unleashed in human form. Cracking the concrete open was also a mistake on the criminal’s part, because it opens up what lies below, exposing water pipes and making it easier for plants to take root and thrive.

Then there’s a call to watch out, and Al whirls about only to stare down the barrel of a gun, though he doesn’t have any to react beyond a startled sound, and—

At the same moment there’s the crack of the round expelling from the glock, the thug’s aim is suddenly redirected up and wide by twisting branches. They’re both shocked, with Al ungracefully falling on his ass and his would-be murderer getting literally shocked half a second later. Somewhere in the distance he can hear his brother screaming for him. It’s hard to hear past all the adrenaline roaring in his ears, that was close, _way too close_ , hadn’t they talked about staying alert? Staying focused? Protecting one another?

      “Are you okay?” It’s Russell who was closest to him, as that’s the only way he could have deflected the attack in time, so effortlessly. There must be some science behind having a near-death experience that’s making him look like some sort of angel, descended to earth just for him.

      “I’m fine,” He says even as he can feel the trembling in his fingers. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

      “No problem.” And then he’s graced with an easy smile and hands offering to help him up. He takes them, even if Ed nearly tackles him back into the dirt by the time he’s on his feet. It’s a wild ride from start to finish.

* * *

 

Even Ed has to admit they make a pretty good team. He even said that he likes having Fletcher around, which is a big deal, because he doesn’t like anyone. Al is convinced that she’s some sort of saint, with the supernatural well of patience she must have to put up with Ed and her own brother. Maybe that’s just the kind of serene calmness it takes to be a Gifted who can heal. You can’t help anyone else if you’re at war with yourself, after all.

The only downside is the paperwork. So much paperwork. Even as someone who likes to follow the rules and do things through proper channels, Al is so fucking over all the paperwork. Most of the damage hadn’t even been their fault this time, and they’re tried to clean up as best they could while the bank robbers where carted off. At the end of the day there’s still a mountain of forms to fill out at the department headquarters, and he has to be thorough about it because he knows Ed won’t. It’s just so tedious. So no one can blame him when he takes a break from writing a report to play with the water in a nearby glass, making it twist and swirl midair, turning it so the light catches it just right to create rainbows along the desk.

      “Can you freeze it?”

Al nearly lets his concentration falter at the sudden question, catching the tumbling droplets at the last moment before they can splatter on all the papers. He shakes his head as Russell slides into the seat beside him.

      “Nah, I never figured it out.” Temperature control is on another level entirely, though he wishes he could do it, to make snow on demand. Because his brother loves winter and so many times when they were kids he wishes he could have done something like that to make his eyes light up, to banish that dark and brooding shadow that crept over him when their mother died. “We used it as an electrical conduit once, though.”

      “I can’t imagine that ended well.” Russell leans on the desk, dangerously close to him, and Al wills the water back into the waiting cup.

      “It didn’t. Ed set a tree on fire.” And, he doesn’t say, managed to give himself a nasty burn up his arm for good measure. _Al knew_ it was a bad idea, but he had let it happen anyway. Now there’s a branching scar that runs across his brother’s right shoulder and down to nearly his wrist, which is the real reason he wears long sleeved shirts and hoodies even in the heat of summer.

Speaking of shirts, someone needs to explain to him why Russell wears ones that are so _tight_. Does he not own other shirts? Does he buy them two sizes too small on purpose to torture him and his raging hormones? He can’t be that evil. Or oblivious. Al has so many questions, and not enough courage to let them come out of his mouth.

      “What are you doing Friday night?” Is what he says instead, which arguably isn’t much better. Those pale blue eyes are going to burn a hole right through him.

      “Friday.” It’s caught somewhere between a statement and a question, and he has one perfect brow arched. “I don’t think I have any commitments.”

      “Good.” Al can’t believe that he’s managing to keep his voice steady. “That’s good. Six?”

      “Six is perfect.” And he’s throwing him another dazzling smile that makes him a little dizzy. There’s the barest brush of their shoulders when he stands and saunters away, and Al knows he’s going pink but couldn’t stop it if he tried.

He grins when he hears Ed beginning to yell about stupid attention whores and all the goddamn flowers outside blooming at once.


End file.
